Haunted
by Poptart22
Summary: Spencer's gotten her own black hoodie after realizing she had nothing left to lose. What happens when she shows up for her first official meeting as a member of the A-Team? One Shot.


"_You don't have to ask me again Mona. I'm in."_

The door clicked down the hallway. The signal that the woman who checked on everyone in the wing had gone. Without missing a beat, she reached under the mattress, grabbing the pillow case that she'd carefully tucked away under the sheet.

Black. Everything was black. The hoodie, the pants, the gloves. Definitely not Spencer Hastings style, but then again, she wasn't the Spencer Hastings she used to be, was she? She didn't even have to make a big deal out of sneaking out. The hallway was so dark at night, in the black outfit she just blended in.

One patrol went through the hallways between eleven pm and seven am. After listening for it every single night a clear pattern was formed. It was almost too easy to get to the window and climb down the uneven brick wall.

The instructions had been clear. Meet at the building.

Spencer jogged down the back street, leading away from Radley. She stopped at the corner before walking onto the dimly light street. All the stores were long closed; the only source of light was the street lights. Almost blindly, she fumbled around in front of the coffee shop. It was supposed to be here, Mona had said it was- she let a small smile come across her face as her fingers wrapped around the small metal key.

There was no explanation, just to grab the key and meet at the building. When Mona had visited earlier that day she'd slipped a small paper against one of the cards before shuffling it back into the deck.

Things were easy to pick up. Any instructions, read and destroy. Things were supposed to be done without a trace.

Sloppy work was not acceptable.

After almost a full five minute jog, she was there. It was tucked away, the kind of place that you over look unless you know where you're going. The door's black paint was chipped, the flakes littering the front step. Someone had been there recently.

Out of curiosity, Spencer reached forward and tried to turn the door knob. Nothing. Deep breath. She knew why she was doing this. It was her only choice. She was Spencer Hastings, and now she had nothing to lose. If you can't beat them, join them.

The key clicked in, and with a twist the door drifted inwards. The only thing in the small room she was faced with was a worn out 'welcome' mat and a coat hook, with a flight of stairs immediately in front of her. She wiped her feet on the welcome mat, which was so faded it looked more like 'w c me'.

The building had a musty feeling about it, the chocolate brown walls made it seem darker than it probably was. The only light was coming from at the top of the stairs, a flickering light bulb, looking to be on its last days.

For the first time in a long time, the gears in Spencer Hastings' mind stopped whirring. There was nothing to plan out, no need to be a step ahead, no worry or concern. She was in the moment. She had to take what was dealt to her as it came.

Each wooden step looked as worn as the welcome mat. She was expecting the creaks and groans that she'd grown up learning how to avoid on her own stairs at home, but even if she tried, they remained silent.

Time stood still as she saw the open door frame. It wasn't exactly the lair she had been expecting; there were no photographs or dolls or costumes like the first one. Probably a preemptive decision, making sure that incase she ratted them out they couldn't be found. At least that's what Spencer would have done if she was in their position.

She stood outside the doorframe and counted to ten. She was Spencer Hastings, and she had nothing to lose. The boy she was in love with was a traitor; though the thought hit her that she couldn't exactly claim to be a saint now either, given where she was standing and what she was wearing; but he was also dead. Her grades, her state of mind, her focus was gone. Everything that had made her who she was had been knocked dead was buried six feet below.

She had enough of being the victim. She'd had enough of the life she'd been living.

She stepped in the door frame. Three figures, dressed identically to her were present. One was Mona, who was standing at the front. In a second things because clicking again, Spencer instinctively began calculating, observing. Mona was the head of this group of people. She was clearly the alpha of the people in this room, but according to Mona, she wasn't at the absolute top of the food chain.

The hood farthest to the right stood with their back to Spencer, but was working on something, pulling a binder out and flipping through it before pinning something to the bulletin board on the wall. Trusted with plans, they were probably second under Mona. Beta.

Then there was the person standing directly in front of her. They felt familiar, the shape, the stance was something she had seen before. It took everything she had to repress the urge to feel fear at the sight. There was no more fear. She was a part of this world now. She had to train herself to not be afraid of the sights before her.

"You're late." There was no fake façade in Mona's voice; the sweetness that she'd put out for so long was stamped clean.

The familiar black sweater turned around, completely blocking the doorway, pushing Spencer back a step. Apparently they hadn't been informed of another member. The person in the sweater's expression softened, almost to panic. His blue eyes went from hard and steely to soft and hopeless.

Spencer felt her resolve wash away. He was supposed to be dead. Her lips parted in a small 'o' shape, and her previously clenched fists were now lying lifelessly at her sides. Breathing didn't come naturally for a few seconds, before her brain kicked back in.

Thankful that he acted like a wall, she remembered she had to play the part she was setting up for herself. So she masked her emotions. She used every single piece of hatred she'd harvested for the man in front of her and regained her composure.

His hood was up, blocking his face from the other two inside. And she watched him go through the same process she did, but instead of rebuilding, he shook his head slightly. The look in his eyes said 'I didn't want this for you'. The hard swallow that was clearly forced said that things were never supposed to work out this way. The way his jaw locked and his gaze locked onto hers was the same one she'd seen so many times before when he tried not to let his emotions shine through.

But she was much better at this than him. In that second, he'd let everything he'd refused to say wash through her, and she couldn't let that get to her. Her brain was kicking into overdrive, and she pushed past him. "Sorry I'm late."

Mona nodded curtly before turning to the unknown member. "I want this done tonight. We need a way in and out of this festival without being caught. Toby," She almost flinched at his name. He wasn't dead. He was here. And in that one look, she knew everything she'd thought about him had been wrong. "You know what you're doing with all of this. Help him."

In a second Toby was over helping the other male, grabbing a pencil out of desk that resided just below the bulletin board. She made sure she didn't look too long before returning her attention to Mona. "What do you want me to do?"

Words were coming out of Mona's mouth but Spencer wasn't hearing any of them. They were drowned out by the repetitive tapping coming from the desk. For a half second, she allowed herself to glance over. Toby was looking at the blue print, with one hand on the wall and the other drumming the pencil on the desk, and Spencer felt like she was being stabbed in the heart.

She made sure to make it look like she was paying attention to Mona, adding in nods when they felt necessary. But the constant taps of the pencil on the desk were all that was registering with her.

"_Do you always do that when sketching?" Spencer asked, stretched out on her newly made bed. Toby had come over on his lunch break, seeing as he'd been busy with work all week. The incessant tapping made it hard for Spencer to focus on the book she was reading for English, as if having Toby there as a distraction wasn't already bad enough._

_He stopped for a second, turning to look at her. "Do what?"_

_She shot a glance at his hand. "Smack the pencil against the desk like it owes you money." She closed her book and set it on her end table before getting up. "It's distracting."_

_He leaned back in her desk chair, reaching back and grabbed her by the hip, pulling her into his lap. "It helps me think. I don't even notice it."_

"_Why don't you do something quietly to help you focus?" She placed her hand against his cheek._

"_Like what?"_

_Spencer ran her other hand over the sketch of the shed Toby was scheduled to build the next week. She smiled at the memory of how excited he was when his boss asked him to design it. It was good, anyone could see the effort he put into his work. "Hm, I don't know. You could always think about how great of a girlfriend you have. Letting you use the shower while the loft is being fixed-"_

_He cut her off with a kiss. "Don't even act like that's not one of the highlights of your day."_

"_You have a point. But one of the highlights of my day will also be watching a movie with you tonight like we planned, but I can't do that if I'm not done my English." Happily she bounced off his lap and onto her bed, grabbing the novel as she did so. _

"_Fine. I'll think of how much I love you instead, okay?" _

_Spencer snorted. "That is so cheesy."_

"_This is coming from the girl who wants to watch the Notebook for the thousandth time on our movie night? I don't think you're in the right position to complain about cheesy, Spence."_

Spencer's stomach did flips. That was just a few months ago, when things were different, when things were good and life felt normal. She snapped back in when it looked like Mona knew she was drifting off.

"All you've got to do is go early with me, and we'll rig some of the costumes. Those bitches won't know what hit them." Spence let a lopsided grin cross her face. She had to pretend to enjoy this, after all. "Are you sure you're up to this, Spencer? Because there's no going back now."

"I'm fine." She sounded confident. Taking drama in grade nine had been a good choice.

Mona gave her one last look before striding over to Toby and the other guy, pushing Toby slightly out of the way to get at the paper. He was still drumming away, but she noticed his head turn slightly as he snuck a glance at her.

She arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. If this had been two weeks ago, she would have broken down the moment their eyes met. But she had to be stronger, and she had to be smarter if she was going to play her part well. Then the constant noise stopped. And he made a point of making it obvious, but the change was only noticeable to her.

He took a step back, letting the other two clamor over the plans. Just long enough to give her the tiniest of nods and the corner of his lip turned up. _For you_. She read his lips and it took her a second to make sure that was what she actually saw.

Then she knew. They were on the inside, with the same motives. She inclined her head slightly. He loved her, and she loved him. To an outsider, things might have looked bad, but Spencer knew differently. The pencil had been a way of showing that he remembered, or at least never forgot what they used to be. He had done this for her.

He'd gone in this alone, but now by chance, they were going to be a team.

**A/N: HOW CRAZY WAS TONIGHT'S EPISODE? Spencer on the A-Team? LOVE IT. This popped into my head, and I had to get it out. Hope you liked it, you can let me know if you drop a review ;) **

**P.S. Personally I'm excited about A-Team Spoby, what about you guys?**


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